Archives for the month of: March, 2012

Cycle monitoring – Cycle Day 3 – Duration: about half an hour

I’m writing this blogpost from a tasty breakfast place near my fertility clinic. Their logo is a smiley sun, which is exactly what I need to see right now.

I had a hard time at my cycle monitoring appointment today. I haven’t been so close to tears with the doctor since our first appointment. It didn’t help that the lab tech taking my blood is 7 months pregnant, or that my doctor looked genuinely sorry for me when he saw me again.

I think he sensed my desperation when I asked what else we could do to get this thing going. He mentioned male vitamins, but said he only really suggested those for guys with low sperm counts, which is not my super spermed J.

“It’s all me”, I said, half joking.

We came up with a plan, though. All is not lost, and he told me each cycle tells us things, in my case, positive things. I responded well to the Clomid, my lining thickened up nicely, everything was in track.

He took more time than usual today with my chart, which I appreciated. We talked about my thyroid, and thought maybe it was time to look at again. U have a sneaking suspicion my prescription is going to get bumped up, as I feel no different than I did before u started the meds.

He talked about antibodies and how these suggest something potentially autoimmune going in inside me. Not sure how I feel about that, or what it could be, but I’m not overly surprised. He suggested I start a daily regimen of baby aspirin, so that’s been added to my ever-increasing pill box.

Clomid starts today with two pills, same dose as last month. Next step if things don’t change by June: laparoscopy.

I feel emotionally exhausted. I can see it in this post, I can feel it in myself. The sadness from the failure of last month’s cycle is lingering, and I’m not sure how to shake it.

Meh.

-Sulky Regular Van.

So chalk this month up as another failed month of baby-making. I went for my blood test today after doing two cheapie POSs, so I had a hunch I was still Regular Van.

It was slightly less heartbreaking this time, and I don’t have a trail of mascara streaks on my sweater like I did last month.

I feel resigned. I feel resigned to a feeling that this isn’t going to happen for us, and it’s a feeling that’s growing stronger. I’ve had a few occasions these past few weeks when I stopped to think about what we’re doing here with all this baby stuff, and the thought of me pregnant seemed so ridiculous to me. I can’t shake this feeling like this isn’t going to be a part of my reality. I sound melodramatic, I know (it’s been 2 rounds of IUI, I need to get over myself), but I don’t feel like I’m being dramatic. I feel kind of calm about it…I can’t explain.

At the same time, though, I feel overcome with this massive sense of guilt, like maybe it’s my mindset that’s at fault. Maybe if I was more positive or could imagine myself pregnant, then magically I somehow would be.

I’m resigned to feeling like things are a bit hopeless right now, but I’m more at peace with that then I thought I would be. At this stage, I often feel more frustrated that I can’t DO this thing (getting pregnant) more than I am frustrated by the significance behind being pregnant.

Maybe I don’t want it badly enough, but maybe I’m not allowing myself to want it enough because somewhere inside me I have this feeling, this knowing, that more than just maybe this isn’t going to happen for us.

I’m running out of fight.

-Just Regular Van.

“And you know when I’m down to just my socks what time it is… Oh! It’s business time…”

In my house, “business time” is less about “…making love/making love for/making love for two/ making love for two minutes/when it’s with me girl you only need two minutes/because I’m so intense”, and more about spreading for the ol’ stirrups.

Properly chosen socks have become a staple during my cycle monitoring/IUI appointments. My sock of choice is of the knee variety. They keep my legs warm while that ultrasound wand is doing its business, and let’s be honest here, I’m not shaving my legs unless my legs are exposed all day.

Anyway, a fellow blogger is organizing a sock exchange for interested IF ladies.

You should check it out, because “you know when I’m down to my socks/it’s time for business/that’s why they call them business socks, ooh…”

-Currently Wearing Socks Regular Van.

Hi. My name is V and I am addicted to buying tea.

As far as addictions go, I guess this is a pretty good one.

You see, here in Canada we have this very cute little chain of tea stores called David’s Tea. David’s mission was to make tea cool and I am totally buying into the whole thing.

My addiction started last spring, when I began seeing my TCM doctor again, this time for “having a hard time making a baby” ( he wouldn’t call it infertility because it hadn’t been a year). Upon the recommendation of a fellow teacher, I checked out the tea store (conveniently located across the street from doctor). Bad news.

My doctor recommended I see him twice a week, so guess where ELSE I was twice a week?

My problem is this: the shop sells loose leaf tea in bulk, but if you buy 100 grams, you get a free adorable tin.

Well, hello, as if I’m not going to buy 100 grams of everything that takes my fancy that particular day!

My cupboards are bulging with adorable tins and various tea paraphernalia. My classroom cupboard is not much better (my addiction is moving with me).

My addiction subsided when I stopped going to acupuncture. My dealer was gone. I was left alone and scared (not really, but I watch a lot of Intervention).

That leads us to today.

J and I took a walk to our local beach and lo and behold…like a beacon it shone: David’s Tea!!

*queue angels singing*

Am I proud that I bought not one but two more tins of tea today? No. But these ones are purple and yellow!!

Could you resist?

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Despite convincing myself that I would hate it (spurred on purely by my jealousy of Zooey Deschanel’s adorableness), I started watching “New Girl”, and am sort of in love. Jess’s dorkiness and impulses to bust into song resonate deeply with me. She is currently holding on to a tight second place behind the lovely Liz Lemon as favourite female TV characters. Funny girls=me likey very much.

Anyway, Jess has the hair of like 4 people. It’s incredible. I have never seen such thick lustrous hair in my life (not that I saw it in life…she is on TV). As someone who will freely admit that she has the hair of a 3-year old, I admire those who seem to have somehow been able to continue growing hair past toddler-dom.

This is a long-winded lead-up to how any of this relates to the title of this post. Speed it up here, Slow Moving Van.

Okay, so Jess has bangs. I have sported a bang or two in my life, and I enjoy it very much. I had to de-bang for the lead up to my wedding (that’s a little dramatic–I didn’t HAVE to de-bang, I chose to, but anyway…I’m digressing again). I decided it was time for a bang once more!

My hair lady is in the town I grew up in, so making an appointment is kind of a process. I’m terrified of driving, so making the hour and a half commute back home is involved. Usually, I have to book a weekend appointment, but this week I’m on MARCH BREAK, BABY! So mid-week appointment it was!

My mum’s been away, which sort of threw my plans for a loop. She’s the glue that holds everything together in my family, so I considered just going up for the day, maybe grabbing a coffee with my sister, and then heading back home. In conversation with her, we decided it would be nice to take my dad out for dinner, since he’s on his own with my mum away.

So I make the commute back to my birthplace, get an ADORABLE hair cut (which, coincidentally, is the same haircut I had when I was 3–full circle!), and couldn’t get a hold of my dad.

After hours of this, I decided I would see my sister and go back home without seeing my dad, because he seemed to be unreachable. My sister and I planned to have a quiet meal in with my 3-year old nephew, but when he started having meltdowns, that idea was nipped in the bud quickly.

I heard back from my dad finally (he was at the pub watching a soccer game with my brother), so my sister dropped me off to see them on her way home with a sobbing 3-year old pleading, “Please can we eat dinner at the rest-ro-not?”. Adorable, but boys who don’t listen don’t get to eat at rest-ro-nots.

I was feeling kind of sad about how shitty this visit had been, but then my dad talked me out of going home that night, so we went back to my parents house and watched a movie.

After it was done, he sat on a chair next to me and asked, “So, how are you doing with your plans?”

“Plans?”, I asked. I haven’t talked to my dad about what’s going on, but I figured my mum told him.

“Your plans with your…family…”.

*Insert massive cringe right about here.*

I love my dad. He is an awesome dad. I am very much like my dad. We prefer to spend time in silence, solving Sudoku puzzles or crosswords, or discussing current events. We avoid social situations if at all possible, and have a general distrust of people. Our affections are earned by a select few who prove to be truly exceptional people.

Also, we don’t like talking about periods, sex, or anything connected to those things. This was a little awkward.

What do I tell him? He made a huge move by even bringing it up, so I spilled the beans about everything. I explained PCOS, I explained the IUIs (which was really hard to do without using the word “sperm”), I told him everything. He listened to everything (awesome dad, like I already said), and when I was done, he rubbed my arm and gave me a face that said, “Life has given you a shitty hand, and you don’t deserve to go through this, but you’re going to get through this because you’re strong” (he has a very expressive face).

It’s been weird with my dad. I never knew what he knew about our TTC escapades, so I always felt like I was sort of editing myself. It wasn’t that I was trying to keep anything from him, I just didn’t really know how much he’d want to know. I didn’t give him enough credit–of course he wanted to know everything–HE IS AN AWESOME DAD! Also, he did more than 1 late-night run to the store to get me “feminine papers” during high school when my mum wasn’t home, and dealt with those with such tact. “Just write down what you need”, he’d say, without making eye contact (or maybe it was just me who couldn’t look at him). He always came back with the right ones, too.

I’m so glad I came to see him, and that we had a chance to talk, just the two of us.

Oh, dads.

-Dad-lovin’ Regular Van.

Yesterday marked the first day that I was up to my full dosage of Metformin. Here’s what I’ve noticed so far:

1. My appetite is, like, NOTHING. We had pizza tonight (a rare treat), and I could barely finish my 3rd piece. This is not normal. I have been known to eat a whole pizza myself, or at least half of it. Am I proud of this ability? If there was a word to describe both incredible shame and disturbing fascination, that would best describe my feelings towards my previous pizza voraciousness.

Apparently, there are some nasty digestive side effects with Metformin, but these are avoidable if you take it with meals. You can see the conundrum here: I’m not really ever hungry anymore, but I’m forcing myself to eat 3 meals so I can take these pills. This is a weird, weird feeling for me, because I always felt like I was starving. Though I may not have been the most predictable eater (is lunch that meal you eat at 3:35, when the kids have left for the day?), I was always aware of my hunger and my ability to eat pretty much anything in sight.

2. The California Barking Spiders are getting pretty bad this time of year. The barooms (J’s favourite description of bum trumpets) have been powerful, both in strength and in sound. We were at a book store the other day and I was froggy crouching whilst looking at cook books when it happened.

The explosion from my posterior was LOUD and caught me off guard. Usually, there is some warning that a duck is sneaking out, but this one was like a ninja. I quickly took the book and moved to another location, but I couldn’t stop grinning over the hilarity of the situation. Ba-ROOM!

So this is new. Everyone farts, I know the book, I live the reality. I was vegan for a big chunk of my adulthood, and I’m well aware that the poem about beans, beans, the magical fruit is really accurate. My lactose intolerance has also made me no stranger to the musical stylings our bottoms are capable of. But man alive, this Metformin (if that is indeed who to blame) is SUMMIN’ else.

*Insert writing pause to teach husband how to apply styling product to his hair*

So as I was saying…prepare yourself for some noisy indiscretions if you’re hopping aboard the Metformin train. The good news: though their sound is ferocious, their odor is nonexistant…for the most part…

3. 4-month baby bump is a thing of the past. Though I am certainly not at the stage where I can say I’ve lost weight (I still feel like a huge frigging whale), I don’t think I’m bloated anymore. I still don’t know if I can chalk that crazy weekend belly up to a Metformin/IUI/ovulating 3 eggs combo, or what, but it was something to see.

So that’s the update on Metformin. The side effects so far have been very minimal, which sadly is not the case with these disgusting progesterone suppositories. I had to explain to J that a “long” panty liner has nothing to do with the size of a woman’s va-jay-jay, and more to do with the amount of grossness coming out of her. The past few that I’ve had to insert broke into two small pieces. I felt like I was packing a musket…

-Pootin’ Tootin’ Musket Packin’ Regular Van.

 

…too bad there’s no baby in it ( at the moment– staying positive!).

J and I are having a staycation this week, so we’ve been touring our city like tourists. While he went to his favorite nerd electronic surplus store, I went to look at clothes. I’ve felt more whale-ish all day, super bloated and peeing every 10 minutes. Anyway, whilst trying on clothes, I noticed I have the sweetest baby bump!

Sadly, my bump is currently babyless, but I look like I’m at least 4 months along. I’m wondering of this is a side effect of the Metformin combined with the super ovulation my body has just gone through.

FYI–the dress I tried on would have been super cute if my belly was distended for procreation reasons. Sigh.

-Massive bellied Regular Van.

Second IUI for this cycle: completed!

Blood work and ultrasound showed that I did, in fact, ovulate 3 eggs yesterday (holy cramping, Batman!). Super news, and while it may be dangerous, I’m holding firmly onto hope with this cycle.

We can do this. Stick, you sweet little eggs, stick.

-Fingers crossed so tight I can’t feel them anymore Regular Van.

I have had so many things shoved up the ol’ girl this morning, I don’t know if I’m coming or going.

Let me explain: We IUI’d today for our second shot at this whole baby-making thing.

A nurse did the procedure this time (I guess my cervix is normal?), which was fine by me. She’s my favourite one, and I think under different circumstances, we could be friends. And by “different circumstances”, I mean “not sitting on a stool face to face with my cootchie” kind of circumstances.

The speculum was not kind this morning. It was way more uncomfortable this round than the first–lots more pressure and cramping. She confirmed that I’ve got 3 follicles over 20 mm in there (J does not believe they are 20 mm and is convinced I’m wrong), so I’m hoping the cramping is a result of the frigging egg party that’s going on in my ovaries at the moment.

I felt a lot more pressure as the catheter was inserted and the sperm was injected, as well, and was glad to have the procedure over and done with so I could put my legs together and breathe through the cramps. I didn’t have any of this last time. I stayed on the bed much longer, and was still lying down when the doctor came in to say hello. We discussed yesterday (second round of IUIs), and how I have to get my blood taken tomorrow to see if I have actually ovulated. If not, we’ll have to do a 3rd IUI on Monday (“But it’s FREE!”, says J).

I’ve been on and off crampy all day, and I hope to whoever/whatever is in charge that those little swimmers are busting through those follicles. Get in there, you guys. Let’s get this show on the road.

-Crampy, spermy, kinda feeling violated, Regular Van.

Cycle monitoring РCycle Day 13 and 14 РDuration: About 1 1/2 each time

So I’m combining appointments here, because nothing really exciting happened until today (and it wasn’t that exciting–sorry to get your hopes up).

Yesterday’s CM appointment was pretty routine–blood, ultrasound, doctor. Dr. Man came into the room and asked me how I was doing. I think the exact sound I made was “Unngghhhmmmm…?”.

“Feeling a little full?”, he asked.

Oh Dr. Man…you have no idea. For the past few days, I have felt like someone’s been blowing up a balloon in my belly through a straw inserted through my belly button. They keep blowing, and blowing, and blowing…

Another blogger mentioned feeling like a chicken who needed to hatch her eggs, and man alive, did that visualisation resonate with me! When the Dr. told me I wasn’t ready yet, I thought I was going to lose my mind. I feel constantly as if I’m going to pop. Needless to say, it’s a little uncomfortable.

So he told me to come back this morning, which I did, at which point he told me we were good to go for tomorrow and Sunday (double the IUI fun this month!). I’ve got three sturdy follicles, two on one side, one on the other, all over 19 mm. This is exciting, as last month I only had one viable one. My lining is looking okay at 8 mm, with a rating of “B” (anyone know where I can find information about these ratings?).

I got my Ovidrel shot, and was sent on my merry way, waddling out of the clinic.

I feel like a beast. Let’s hope these little eggs are sticky and can catch themselves some sperm!

-Human Chicken Regular Van.